Mindspeak (18 page)

I sorted the articles by subject,
but then decided chronological worked better. Stories of when Dad had won an
award for identifying a specific gene believed to be at the root of many
cancers. Articles about the goat cloning. And about the failure. Another when
he turned down a huge grant to take stem-cell research to the next level in the
United States because of “philosophical differences.”

From time to time, I glanced up and
admired my grandmother’s work. “Gram, that blanket you’re knitting is
beautiful.”

“Thank you, dear,” she said. “It’s
for my new granddaughter.”

I smiled and patted her hand. I was
her only granddaughter. “I bet Peter and your daughter are so thrilled.”

Even though Gram didn’t recognize
me as her granddaughter, sitting with her comforted me.

“Oh, they are. She’s their first
child. And she’s so beautiful.” Her face lit up, but then drooped, more
serious.

“Gram, you okay?”

She gave her head an absent shake. “Oh,
yes, dear. I’m just a little worried about my daughter. Pregnancy has been
difficult on her.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“Oh, no. We’ll just leave such
matters for God to handle.” Just like that, she went back to knitting. I was
used to those kinds of conversations. One minute we’re discussing something,
then… nothing. She was always leaving the serious matters to her God in heaven.

It was that simple for her. I
stared at the twinkle that was back in her eyes as she hummed.

Mom left Dad and me soon after I
was born. Sometimes, I think it was harder on Gram than my dad or me. I’d
always dreamed of knowing my mother, but since I had zero recollection of her
and no one ever rushed to defend her abrupt exit from my life, it was easier to
hate her for leaving.

But not Gram. She surrendered such
things. I reached to touch Gram’s hand and thought of Mom. Did Mom know what
Dad did? Did she know I was the result of a mad scientist playing God? That my
genetic makeup was altered in some way? Was that why she left?

Maybe that explained why I looked
nothing like the rest of my family.

“You’re supposed to be at the
University library.”

I whirled around. “You scared the crap
out of me, Jack.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, you’re lucky I
didn’t get the dean, my father
and
the police involved in a search for
you. My dad already wants to have your off-campus privileges revoked.”

“He can’t do that.” I reached out
both hands and shoved the papers and newspaper clippings into an unorganized
mess, stuffing them into the folder they came in.

“He can. And he will.” He squatted
in front of Gram. “How are you today, Mrs. Matthews?”

“Why, I’m fine, young man. Thank
you.”

I stood, still turning and tucking
the articles that didn’t fit neatly inside the folder.

Jack’s knees popped and cracked as
he stood. His smile mocked and infuriated me. “Gram already loves me.” He
winked at me.

“Well, she’s way too trusting.”

My grandmother’s hand grazed my
arm. “He’s a handsome young man, isn’t he?”

Flames crept up my neck and spread
across my cheeks. “Yes, Gram, but it’s what’s inside here that counts.” I
pointed to my heart. “That’s what you always taught me, right?” Gram looked
confused. Jack chuckled. “This is starting to feel a lot like stalking, Jack.
Why did you come here?”

“To save you from being confined to
campus weekend after weekend.”

Because that would suck, for sure.
Dean Fisher had canceled all off-campus travel before when a student was in
danger. Like the time Rachel Denton was held at gunpoint outside the local
coffee shop and ordered into a car. Had she not screamed and gotten the
attention of a bank security guard, she would have been kidnapped. Wellington
students were rewarded with six weeks of campus lock down after that. We weren’t
allowed to go anywhere until the FBI discovered who the kidnappers were.

“And we have a date.”

I hadn’t forgotten. I slid the
folder of articles into my book satchel. “Was that tonight?” I batted my
eyelashes. I wanted to know about Sandra Whitmeyer more than ever.

He cocked his head. “Why can’t you
just accept that there are people who want to help you? Besides, a date with me
beats going back to school.”

He had a point. “Oh, I don’t know,
Jack. Maybe it’s because the people trying to ‘help’ me barged into my life a
couple of weeks ago. All starting with your father punching Dad in the face.” I
swallowed hard. “And now my father is…” My voice dropped off. I looked over at
Gram. She didn’t even know Dad was dead. I didn’t want to chance upsetting her
on the rare occasion she caught back up to normal time.

Jack moved closer and reached a
hand to my arm.

“Don’t.” I stepped back.

He followed. “Don’t what?” He
pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s okay to be angry. To be upset.
Have you even allowed yourself to mourn your father?”

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
I crossed my arms, hugging myself tightly. “How can I mourn him, when I don’t
even know who he was to me anymore?”

“What do you mean? He was still
your father.”

“He messed with my genetic make-up.
He created a freak.” I pulled in a deep, cleansing breath. “I’ve got to figure
things out for myself. I realize I barely had contact with Dad before his
death, but I always knew he was there. Somewhere. Now?” I glanced down at Gram,
who had nodded off. “I’ve got nobody. If I’m going to navigate through this
life… If I’m going to figure out my big purpose, I’ve got to figure some things
out about who I am. Where I came from.”

“Those are some really big
questions.”

“Don’t you dare make fun of me.” I
heard the hitch in my tone, and I internally berated myself for it.

“I’m not making fun.” His tone
warmed. “I promise I will never make fun of this situation. I get it. I’m the
only person in your life who gets it.”

My hands shook. He was right, but I
wasn’t ready to surrender fully to him or anyone. “So much of what’s going on
is coming at me so fast, and my questions are piling up unanswered.”

He took another step and grasped my
shaky hand in his. “I’m not going to let you do this alone.” He lifted a bag in
front of him with his other hand. I hadn’t even noticed him carrying it.

“That’s mine.”

“Yes. Your roommate understands the
importance of proper clothes for a first date. And judging by your jeans and
sweatshirt, you were either trying to get out of the date, or you have so
little experience you thought
this
was appropriate.” He pushed the bag
gently into my chest. “Now, go change.” When I rolled my eyes, he leaned in
close and whispered, “Look at it this way. You might actually enjoy our date. “

Chapter
Fifteen

“You still haven’t told me where we’re
going.”

Jack glanced sideways. “You’re
pathetic. You have zero patience.”

I squinted, studying his profile.
He was getting great joy out of keeping me in the dark about his agenda.

It was a warm, fall evening. The
sun sat low in the sky when Jack pulled into a small parking lot on University
of Kentucky’s campus. He rolled down the windows and a pleasant breeze blew the
scent of seafood through the car.

“Sit tight,” Jack said as he turned
the key and shut the car off.

“Where are you going?”

“Patience. Sheesh.”

I leaned my head back against the headrest.
Sunglasses shaded my eyes and hopefully hid the fact that I rolled them way
back in my head at his order for patience. “Fine.”

He got out and closed the door, eyeing
me one last time before he pushed off and jogged toward the building and around
the corner.

A group of college kids passed by.
They argued about being late for dinner and therefore late for the band they
wanted to hear after. One of the boys slid an arm around a girl’s shoulder. “You
know we’re late because you insisted on changing a fourth time.”

The girl laughed and shrugged. “Couldn’t
be helped.”

A straggler ran to catch up to the
group.

I heard it before I saw it. The
screeching of tires. People yelling. “Jerk. Watch it. You almost killed us.”

I looked over my shoulder. A black
Suburban with tinted windows slammed to a halt in the middle of the parking lot
to allow the group to cross. Behind the wheel, a man shook his head and raised
a fist.

Fortunately, no blood was spilled.

Jack was gone five minutes, and
when he returned, he carried a large white bag, which he set in the back seat.

He started up the car, and we drove
off again. The wind blew wildly through my long hair, and the sun shone through
my window. The heat against my cheeks was therapeutic.

I gave up asking where we were
going, but it wasn’t long before Jack slowed again and pulled into another
parking lot. The University of Kentucky Arboretum.

A black Suburban slowed as we turned,
but continued past and turned at the next intersection. I started to tell Jack,
but his touch to my arm distracted me.

“Let me just say this.” He rubbed
his thumb along the skin of my arm. “I know you’re having a tough time trusting
me, or anyone for that matter. Can tonight just be about having a little fun
away from school? You know… normal.”

Normal fun, huh? His look was
intense, but warm. Inviting. Someone I wished I could be close friends with. I
glanced down the road again. No Suburban.

It
was
America. It wasn’t
like big black trucks were unusual.

I met his eyes again. It would be
nice to have a typical date like any normal teenager. “I’ll try?”

“That’s all I can ask.”

Once out of the car, Jack grabbed
my hand and led me across the street and through the entrance of the UK
Arboretum. With an easy wave over his head to a woman at the information desk,
he pulled me right past the visitor center. Employees of the arboretum sprayed
water hoses on various plants as we passed. A lady said hello to Jack by name.
He smiled easily at her, waving.

I lifted a brow. “Come here often?”
I asked.

He stopped and turned to me. “Close
your eyes.”

“What? Why?”

“You really do have trust issues,
don’t you? Close your eyes.”

I stared at him a few seconds
longer before I complied, closing my eyes one at a time.

Jack squeezed my hand. My stomach
tightened, a feeling not unlike one I’ve felt before an important race. I
allowed him to lead. He directed me when I needed to step up or down. We turned
several times, walking on pavement, gravel, and then grass. Then we stopped. “Keep
them closed,” he warned, but he let go of my hand, and I crossed my arms across
my chest and breathed in the flower-perfumed air.

A couple of high-pitched birds
chirped to my right. In front of me, I heard the sound of fabric being shaken,
like a sheet being tossed over a bed.

I squinched up my face, wanting
desperately to open my eyes. “Okay, I’m ready to see again. You’re kind of
freaking me out.”

“Okay, two more steps,” he
whispered in my ear. I jumped at the closeness of his voice. His hand slid into
mine and tugged gently.

I walked two steps.

“Open,” he said, his tone soft.

I turned in a circle. The sun had
faded. A couple of candles, sitting in hurricane vases, sat on two corners of a
blanket. Everywhere I looked, high and low, roses bloomed. Pinks, whites,
yellows, purples, reds—and all different shades in between.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“This is the Garden of Old Roses,”
he said.

I turned another complete circle. “It’s
beautiful.”

Jack removed food containers from a
bag, and I stayed cemented to the spot where he left me. I didn’t think it was
hunger making my insides twist into a fit of nerves.

“Come on. Let’s eat.” His
expression faltered. He jumped up and crossed to me. “Don’t do that.” He
pointed at my face.

“Don’t do what?” I asked.

“You look scared to death. Stop it.
This,” he said, waving a hand toward the quilt, lit candles, and food, “is
nothing but a distraction. I just thought it would be nice to let you know you
don’t have to grieve, discover your past, or decide your future tonight. And
you definitely don’t have to do it alone.”

He could have just told me that. I
crossed my hands over my stomach. This was way too much. I didn’t know if it
was because the grief of losing my dad was so fresh or the fact that I didn’t
know who or what I was, but maybe a date was too much too soon.

“Alright, that didn’t sound right.”
He inhaled, letting it out slowly. “This is just dinner. A break from school,
college applications and murder investigations. We don’t even have to call it a
date.”

I frowned at the words “murder
investigation,” but quickly pushed the thought away. “Just dinner.”

“That’s right.”

“So, you’re just showing me a
little brotherly support?” I could work with that.

“Don’t push it, Matthews.”

I smiled and relaxed my hands to my
side. He reached for one and pulled me over to the blanket. He opened
containers of food, handed me a salad and a fork.

Chomping down on a pecan from my
salad, I eyed Jack, who lay across the quilt, propped up on his elbow. “Why
here?” I asked.

“Why the Garden of Old Roses?” he
asked. He picked at a leaf that blew onto the quilt and tossed it off.

“Why the arboretum? You’re
obviously known here. Is this where you bring all the ladies?”
Please say no
.

A smile crept across his face. I
hated,
or loved
, the way it reached all the way to his blue eyes.

“No.” He let out a breathy chuckle.
“You’re the first. I volunteer here. Part of the Cathy DeWeese home schooling
curriculum last year.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve always
loved learning about plants and trees. Doing what it takes to make the rare
ones grow—to nurture life.”